Gideon's POV
She moved past me toward the bed, the soft grey sweater Olivia had lent her shifting gently with her movement.
As she turned, her hair—swept up into a high, loose bun—shifted just enough to reveal a tiny sliver of jagged, raised skin peeking out from beneath her collar. My breath caught in my throat. It was a scar.
In an instant, I saw red. Kane slammed against my ribs, roaring in absolute fury at the sight of her damaged skin. I fought with every ounce of my strength to keep him from taking total control, the violent urge to rip apart whoever had laid a hand on her warring with my human mind. Kane growled—a low, terrifying sound that vibrated straight through the floorboards—but we pushed forward anyway, driven by a primal need to see the full extent of what had been done
